


Mental Occupation

by Mando-Chicken (Sincognito)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fives wants to save the universe, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Essence, Force Sensitivity, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Fives, Fox needs a nap, Only for the first few chapters, Possession, Sharing a Body, Transfer Essence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincognito/pseuds/Mando-Chicken
Summary: When Fives is killed, his essence refuses to become one with the force, instead, searching out the easiest sentient being to attach itself to. After years working beneath Palpatine, Fox has had his mental shields completely eroded and his defences completely shattered, making him the perfect person for Fives' essence to transfer into. The two of them must figure out how all this strange 'jedi stuff' works and how they can both coexist long enough to save their brothers and if they're lucky, perhaps the rest of the galaxy too.
Relationships: CT-21-0408 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & CC-1010 | Fox, CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 & CT-7567 | Rex, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 60
Kudos: 157
Collections: Commander Fox





	1. Chapter 1

When Fox finally snapped back to reality, the first thing he noticed was the relentless pressure he could feel bearing down on his skull. He was dizzy and off-balance, and he was almost certain that the dimly lit, dusty walls of the warehouse were swaying, until he realised that it was, in fact, him who was wobbling from side to side. It felt like someone was trying to force their way into his head with no regard for his already fragile mind, splintering his resolve and leaving him kneeling on the floor with his head drooping low as he tried desperately to pull himself together. 

It took a while for the memories to slowly creep back to him – arriving at the warehouse to arrest a fugitive brother, listening to him rambling about the Chancellor, moving with his men to stun the trooper, realising that his pistol had somehow been switched from stun to kill – the horror of just what had happened hit Fox with the force of a raging  rancor . His head shot up and he lifted his gaze back towards where the 501 st brother had been stood moments ago. 

The feeling of bile raising up his throat had the commander choking just to get down enough air to fill his lungs, and he had to fight down the urge yank off his helmet and start gasping. His brothers were all gathered around Rex and the Jedi, looking to one another and at their mourning brother. Skywalker has a hand gently resting on Rex’s shoulder, offering his silent support as his captain fought to process the fact that his  _ vod’ika _ was no more. 

Fox didn’t understand what had happened. As a guard working  regularly with  civilians, his blaster was set to stun more often than it was kill, and he had been certain to ensure that his weapon was set correctly before leaving the Chancellor’s office. A single stun bolt to the chest would have been sufficient to take down the ARC trooper as quickly and painlessly as possible – stun blasts weren’t pleasant after all – if he’d wanted to put him down, he would have aimed for his unprotected head, not his armoured chest. 

But Fox would never kill a brother, he wasn’t like the  Kaminoans or the senators that looked down at his fellow clones in disgust and had no qualms with tossing aside their lives, he cared for each and every one of them just as much as any brother did. He was still reeling from the shock of making such a lethal mistake, and the terrible pounding of his head was not helping him to focus. It had grown so bad that he barely even registered when Rex had started shouting, and it took him longer still to realise that it was him Rex was screaming at. 

He was lucky that Skywalker had grabbed both of the Captain’s shoulders in a firm grip, keeping the man from attacking Fox. His fellow Guards, the men under his command, all stood silent, watching and listening as Rex spewed all manners of hate, none of them moving to stop him, nor to defend their Commander’s actions. They were confused, some of them worried and some of them angry, all of them knowing how often Fox drilled it into them to stun their targets wherever possible, never kill, not unless it was the last available option. They weren’t able to focus on it long, however, for only a few moments later the building was swarming with other Guards, led by a handful of medics who were quick to shoo everyone aside and begin looking over their fallen comrade. 

“What the hell happened here?” Fox could only blearily look up at  Thire , briefly wondering when the other commander had managed to sneak up beside him. “Fox, are you okay?” Fox still hadn’t replied, still sitting on his knees with his head rolling slightly as he struggled to ponder the question. He could barely feel his limbs anymore, a terrifying sensation of numbness spreading through him and leaving his body cold and lax. 

“What?” was all he was able to  murmur , watching silently as  Thire crouched down to his level. 

“I’m just going to take your bucket off, okay?” the other Commander asked, moving his hands slowly up towards the sides of Fox’s helmet, pausing a moment in case he was met with an objection, before slowly breaking the helmet’s seal and gently prying it off Fox’s head. If  Thire was trying to hide his concern, he did a poor job of it, his brows furrowing more with every inch of Fox’s face his eyes looked over. He briefly turned away, calling out for a medic, before reaching out to place steadying hands on Fox’s shoulders. 

It was a relief to finally stop swaying quite so much, but Fox still struggled to keep a hold on of his  consciousness . He was startled back into a state of wakefulness when a familiar medic appeared before him, grabbing a firm hold of his jaw and flashing something bright in his eyes, but just as quickly as he grasped some focus it began to slip away again. The soft beeping of some sort of instrument was the last thing Fox was able to identify before his eyes rolled back and the little  energy he had fled his body, leaving him to fall  unceremoniously to the floor. 

* * *

Fives had never been a  particularly heavy sleeper – living in an active warzone for up to several months at a time tended to make it difficult to fall into a deep sleep – so he was hardly surprised when the sound of a machine chirping close to his ear had him jolting awake. The medic inspecting him, however, was quite the opposite, jerking back away from the suddenly  conscious trooper with a startled yelp. 

“Where am I? What- what happened?” Fives quickly began to take in his surrounds, his eyes darting around the sterile med-bay as he took in all the people quietly shuffling around and took note of the location of each exit. The  presence of brothers was a sure relief, but he knew better than to allow his guard down so quickly, especially after the events of the previous few hours. 

The medic held out his hands placatingly, waiting until his eyes had stopped bouncing around the room before finally answering his questions, “You’re in the med-bay, Commander  Thire brought you in after you passed out.” He hadn’t remembered seeing  Thire in the warehouse, but he’d been a little distracted at the time, and slowly nodded for the medic to continue, “I’d say you went into shock, but we’ve had you in here for several hours now and your vitals seem to have evened out.”

Fives blinked in confusion. The last thing he remembered was the pain ebbing from his chest and the subtle scent of burning  plastoid and flesh as his grasp on the living realm slowly slipped away from him. He was certain that he’d died, it wasn’t a sensation easily forgotten. It wasn’t like passing out at all, feeling instead like his very essence was drifting away from his pain-filled body. Yet, when he looked down at his chest, he found no gaping  blastershot wound, not even a twinge of pain where he should have been aching. 

Before Fives could even consider a response, Commander  Thire stalked his way into the med-bay, ignoring the rest of the men as they snapped to attention and making his way directly toward him. The medic glanced up at  Thire’s approach, offering him a nod in greeting before glancing back down at the  datapad he had been using to note Fives’ vitals on, “I’m assigning you to bed rest for at least twelve hours,” the medic continued, switching his gaze to  Thire , “I assume you can make sure he actually stays in his quarters?” 

The edges of  Thire’s lips twitched up briefly, but he seemed to quickly push his amusement back down, “I’ll walk him there myself.” The commander assured him, offering Fives a pointed look as though he was expecting an argument. He found it strange, confused as to why  Thire thought he would attempt to dispute the orders of a medic and commander, but he supposed that given his recent uncooperative behaviour it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. 

Seemingly satisfied by  Thire’s statement, the medic nodded to himself once more, “in that case, you’re free to head back to your quarters.” With that said, the other clone immediately turned away from  Thire and Fives and straight towards his next patient. 

“Ready to go?” the Commander asked, waiting until Fives nodded before offering a hand to him, pulling him from the cot and to his feet. “I’ve already taken care of the more pressing flimsiwork waiting for you, so you have no excuse not to get some rest,” Thire explained, planting a hand firmly on Fives’ back as he began to gently guide him away from medical and towards where he assumed the barracks were housed. 

Fives wasn’t entirely sure what the commander meant by  flimsiwork – he knew he had stirred up quite a bit of trouble, but dealing with anything more complex than a report was generally handled by a captain or commander, not an ARC – and filling out sheets of information wasn’t a particularly pressing issue, he was far more concerned with trying to get back in contact with his fellow members of the 501 st as quickly as possible. 

“Thank you, sir, but would I be able to at least contact Captain Rex? There’s something I need to speak to him and General Skywalker about.”  Thire met him with an odd look, his eyebrows  scrunched up in confusion as he hesitated slightly to continue walking. Fives wasn’t sure what he had said to prompt such an expression from the Commander, but as quickly as the look appeared it vanished, and  Thire was back to  manoeuvring him through the Guard base. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,  vod , he’s not exactly in the mood to speak with you,”  Thire replied as they finally reached the barracks, turning down one of the halls that led towards the commander quarters. 

It was Fives’ turn to be confused, frowning at the commander. He knew that they hadn’t believed what he had been trying to say when he’d trapped Rex and the General, and attacking the Chancellor had, in hindsight, perhaps not been the most well thought through course of action, especially when he wanted to plead his case to the very people who were obligated to serve and protect him. But for Rex to be angry enough to refuse contact with him before he had even had the chance to defend his actions? Something didn’t feel right with it. 

Eventually, the Commander stopped before one of the doors, quickly tapping in the access code and standing aside for Fives when the door swished open. When the medic had said to bring Fives to his quarters, he had assumed that  Thire was there to escort him to some sort of holding cell, he  _ was _ still wanted for treason after all. But upon seeing his hesitation, the Commander held up a hand and gestured for him to go inside. 

Cautiously, with his senses still buzzing anxiously, Fives entered the room. It was simple enough, with a standard cot, a cabinet to presumably store armour, and what appeared to be an attached refresher. The room had clearly been used recently, but it was clean, and there were no personal effects to be seen. When he turned back to Thire, he noticed that the Commander hadn’t stepped inside yet, standing around almost anxiously by the door. 

“I’ll just be in my quarters if you need me.”  Thire was still watching him, seeming almost sad as Fives awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other. 

“You’re letting me stay here?” Fives couldn’t help asking, “not a cell or something? You're just going to let me stay in these quarters without a guard or anything?” He refused to believed that the Coruscant Guard were just going to let him use one of their rooms reserved for COs after he’d attacked the very person their entire lives revolved around. Sure, Fives had ample reason to try and strike down the man who was controlling his brothers, but there was no way they could have known his reasoning. 

Thire looked absolutely shattered by his question, reaching out slowly to gently grasp Fives’ forearm, “Hey, it’s okay, no one blames you for what happened, you were just... doing your duty.” The Commander’s words were soft, almost a whisper as he moved to envelop Fives in a brief side hug, “everything’ll be fine,  vod .” While the sentiment was greatly appreciated, it by no means helped Fives to make any more sense of what was happening. 

“Okay?” Fives still wasn’t convinced but managed not to let his unease show by keeping his expression as neutral as possible. He muttered out a soft thanks when the Commander finally released his hold on Fives, stepping back to provide them with a little breathing room. He thought that  Thire was going to say something else, but before he could his commlink lit up, flashing and beeping at chirping at him  incessantly . 

“A Guard’s day is never done,”  Thire huffed, managing a fleeting, tired smile. “It’s probably nothing, but I’ll keep you updated if anything changes.” The Commander turned away too quickly to have caught the perplexed face that Fives made at the statement. Why would  Thire be updating him on what the Guard were doing? There was no reason to it. But the other clone was already leaving the room, offering only a small wave in farewell as the door slid closed behind him, leaving Fives alone. 

Just like that Fives could feel how exhausted he was. His body was tense and his nerves clearly vexed by the way he struggled to stand still, but it seemed that he’d finally run out of adrenaline to run on and his muscles were beginning to grow sluggish and heavy. He didn’t want to wait to try and contact Rex or General Skywalker – the information he possessed was far too important to chance losing – but he didn’t have access to a comm unit, and despite the Guards’ hospitality, he doubted they’d allow him to borrow one of theirs. 

He had been stripped down to his blacks, likely by the medics so he would be more comfortable while he was laying in the med-bay, so he didn’t even have his stolen set of armour to wear. No weapons, no armour and no communications. The odds were rather set against the ARC trooper’s chances of escaping the base and making his way to the Torrent barracks, and coupled with his tired body and aching head it would be far more difficult a feat still.

Deciding that it would be in his best interests to rest and  recuperate before making any rash plans of escape or the like, he wandered into the refresher. He was in dire need of something to drink and perhaps a warm shower to relieve some of the tension coiled around his shoulders and back. It took him a moment to find the light switch for the refresher, but the moment the lights flickered on overhead Fives was met with his reflection in the mirror, startling him badly enough that he almost fell over backwards. 

While he was met with a clone’s reflection, it was decidedly not Fives who was looking back at him in the mirror. “What the  kriff ?” he spat, watching as the reflection’s lips followed his words perfectly, copying his every movement despite looking so unnervingly different to the person Fives was used to seeing. Where Fives’ goatee usually sat was instead a thin layer of  stubble that marked the beginnings of a beard, and while the ARC trooper usually kept his hair at regulation length, he vividly recalled shaving it all off on Kamino. Yet, his mirror-self had several short, silver hairs scattered throughout a thick mop of black. 

Reaching up to run his fingers through the curly mess of hair, he had no idea how he had managed to miss the fact that he was no longer completely bald. He knew that clones grew quickly, but it was impossible for him to grow back an entire head of hair in only a couple of hours. Perhaps the most obvious problem was the fact that his unique number five tattoo was completely missing. 

It was difficult for Fives to keep his hands from poking and prodding the strange face he saw, smoothing one of his fingers along the trail of a large scar leading from the side of his jaw all the way down his neck to where it disappeared beneath his shirt. His face was pale like it hadn’t seen enough sunshine, and the stress lines of his face seemed to make him appear several years older than he was, especially with the way his expression was twisted by such heavy  scrutinization . 

Something was very, very wrong, and Fives had no idea how he was going to figure out what. 


	2. Chapter 2

Fives was struggling to keep his breathing calm as he began fretfully pacing the small length of his assigned quarters. He could feel his nails digging into the soft flesh of his forearms as he clutched at them with a white-knuckle grip, creating little moon shaped indents along his skin even through the thick material of his blacks. Panicking over a situation went against everything he had been trained for during even the earliest stages of ARC training, but recently it felt as though those months of work had been thrown completely out of the window. 

Losing his mind and making rash decisions would be a terrible mistake – the events of the last rotation had been a perfect example of that – but there were only so many scenarios that Fives had been trained to handle, even with how he had been encouraged to regularly think outside of the box and use more unorthodox approaches. What to do when randomly waking up in someone else’s skin was certainly not on the general training curriculum 

Deep breaths. Take stock of the situation.  Come up with a goal. Design a plan to reach said goal.

On  flimsi it sounded easy enough, but Fives was struggling to complete the first step successfully , and he was beginning to have serious doubts about managing to  deal with the situation.  Though giving up in the face of difficulty had never been in  the trooper’s nature, and so with a deep breath Fives managed to force himself to cease his pointless pacing.  He took a moment to close his eyes, feeling each breath as it  entered  his nose and exited through his  mouth .  Breathing in fresh, cool air that soothed all the way down his throat , and exhaling  breaths laced with all his worry and fear , carrying away the negative emotions so that his mind could be clear and logical . 

When Fives opened his eyes again he refused to look at his reflection,  switching off the refresher light so that he wouldn’t have to keep accidentally seeing his appearance  and becoming any more distracted than he already was.  He seemed to unconsciously gravitate towards the  cot in the corner of the room , sinking down onto the firm mattress , sighing  heavily as his body once again reminded him of just how exhausted he was.

As attractive as it sounded to be back in his own bunk, surrounded by his snoring brothers all safe and sound, he wasn’t about to try and make another escape attempt, not after having already just spent hours on the run from the Guard. Then there was of course also the issue of Fives’ commandeered body, who exactly it belonged to, and if it was possible to give it back to them. He knew he couldn’t trust the Corrie brothers to help him, and apparently Captain Rex wasn’t pleased with whoever he was now body sharing with. 

It wasn’t as though he could simply tell them what had happened to him either, for they would undoubtedly think he had gone mad, and Fives was far from eager to be shipped off back to  Kamino to give the doctors a second attempt at wiping his mind. So it seemed that until he could come up with some indisputable proof of who he really was, he would have to try his best to lay low and draw as little attention to himself as possible. 

Ensuring that he distances himself from the rest of his brothers would be a challenge, but he was sure that he could come up with some excellent excuses for any odd behaviour, he was an expert liar after all. The 501 st would likely be getting deployed again within the next few days, so he knew he wouldn’t be bothered by any of his closer brothers, and Captain Rex and General Skywalker would likely be spending their short leave time at the base and the Jedi temple respectively. 

Keeping away from the  Chancellor would be simple – the man only interacted with people of  importance or high rank, and Fives was certain he didn’t qualify as either –  as far as he had heard, only the Guard commanders regularly spent time around him and he was certain that he hadn’t recognized the body he’d seen in the mirror , so it was unlikely he was anyone of importance .  There had been several  Coruscant Guard members that had come to the warehouse to arrest him,  but judging by the fact he had been led to the officer quarters  he was likely using the body of some sergeant or captain. 

He had no idea what routines the Guards usually kept to,  but with any luck he would have some sort of superior to report to , and from there he could  figure out some way to get a hold of a roster  or mission details.  With any luck he would have enough  down time to try and find some clues as to what had happened to him, or at least something to help prove his identity . The thought of attempting to contact the Jedi briefly crossed his mind, but the memory of General Skywalker’s reaction to his  earlier behaviour still left a rather bitter taste of betrayal  heavy in his mouth, and he quickly pushed aside the notion, deciding that his f irst goal would be to try and gain the support of his fellow brothers before speaking to anyone further along in the command chain. 

With his goal in mind, and his body  begging for rest, Fives dropped  down onto the cot, feeling all the tension in his body bleed out as he sunk into the  material of the mattress.  He was about to finally concede defeat and drift off  when a soft pinging sound came from the  datapad perched on the table beside his bed. Curious, he dragged the  padd closer to him, holding it up above his head to quickly scan over the message sent to him. 

The message was sent from a CC-2224, and after a few moment digging through his memory, Fives was able to  recall it was Commander Cody’s designation.  The message was  Cody  demanding that he tell  him what had happened earlier that evening,  and Fives could practically feel the irritation radiating from the text  when Cody added that Rex was completely beside himself and that apparently it was all his fault that their  vod’ika was so distressed .  Fives was briefly taken aback by someone referring to Rex as  their  vod’ika , and had to quickly remind himself that yes, Cody probably would view Rex that way considering he was the elder clone in their relationship. 

Fives wanted to reply to the message straight away,  his very bones practically shouting that he couldn’t just  _ ignore  _ a question from his superior , but he wasn’t entirely sure himself what had happened, and spreading misinformation would likely not help his situation.  Until the ARC was  certain about what had transpired in the warehouse he would have to pretend he hadn’t yet seen the message and pray to the Maker that Cody was too busy to  comm him for answers . 

Scrolling a little further up the conversation,  he saw that his own designation was set as CC-1010, confirming  that his body was that of either a commander or captain.  Unfortunately,  he couldn’t quite remember anyone with that specific number – he never really bothered to remember the  numerical designations of anyone other than his closest brothers in case he  ever had to write up a report detailing the deceased – the GAR didn’t care for the names of the clones serving them, only noting their  number for ease of recording. 

Switching off the  datapad screen, Fives placed the device back on the table, stretching out on his temporary bed with a rather large yawn. His eyes were refusing to focus on anything and his eyelids were beginning to droop, so knowing that he would likely have quite a stressful day when he woke, he was quick to wriggle into a slightly more comfortable position. He hadn’t been bothered to switch off the overhead lights, but that seemed not to matter, for he was quick to drop off to sleep. 

Although it was easy for him to get to sleep, Fives found himself tossing and turning the entire night, his head swimming and  refusing to let him get too comfortable.  He was too used to  needing to sleep lightly for him to be able to fully relax, at least not without someone keeping watch or laying beside him , so he wasn’t entirely surprised when he woke still feeling slightly groggy.  For a moment he wondered w hat he’d been woken by, before his thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of knocking. 

Quickly rolling from the cot and to his feet, Fives took a second to give a large stretch before pressing the keypad to unlock the door, watching as it slid open to reveal a clone in fresh white  armour . The shiny straightened to attention, moving their arm to perform a salute before seeming to  realise that they couldn’t do so while weighed down by the pile of crimson  armour held within their grasp. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted, voice wavering slightly, but still sounding far too chipper for someone awake at such an ungodly hour, “I was sent by one of the medics to return your  armour to you, sir, they forgot to give it to Commander  Thire before your both retired.” 

“Uh, yeah, thanks kid,”  was all he offered, finally managing to blink the blurriness from his eyes as he moved aside to let the  shiny into the room. 

The young clone was quick to place the set of  armour neatly in a pile on Fives’ desk before turning  back to him once more ,  “is that all, sir?” he asked, waiting for Fives to offer him a nod and a quiet affirmative, before  snapping a brief salute.  The shiny pivoted around on his heel and was out of his quarters before Fives even had the chance to blink, leaving him once more alone and slightly miffed that he hadn’t been able to catch the kid’s name. 

Rubbing his face slightly to  rid himself of any other lingering exhaustion , Fives walked over to the stack of  armour , gingerly lifting up the  helmet that sat at the very top of the pile and staring into its visor.  A sinking feeling began to steadily grow in his gut as he  realised that he  recognised the helmet.  He had seen the very same visor staring back at him when a blaster bolt had been  shot through his chest, and he knew almost for certain who owned it. 

Pushing aside some of the  armour pieces,  Fives was horrified to find that there was indeed  a  kama and commander’s  pauldron that matched the design of  the bucket still in his grasp.  He might not have known the identification number, but it was  infinitely easier to  recognise such a unique  armour design.  In his hands sat the helmet of Commander Fox. 

Fives was trapped in the body of his own killer. 

Someone sure had a sick sense of  humour , and if they really wanted to torture  him then they were certainly doing a good job of it.  He silently wondered what exactly he had done in his past life to deserve such a cruel punishment. He wanted to just crawl back into his bunk, hide under his blanket and proceed to wallow in self pity for the next hundred years or so.  He knew life was unfair, especially for a clone, but  this was an entirely new level of cruel and unjust. 

“You ready yet, Fox?” Fives practically jerked  away from the  armour when Commander  Thire poked his head in through the door that remained  still open. Seemingly ignorant of Fives’ response,  Thire continued, “I know I said that I’d cleared  your schedule for the morning and you’ll probably just be  catching up on paperwork, but did you want to join me and the boys for breakfast?” 

Fives wanted to immediately turn him down , but he knew it would likely look rather suspicious if he tried to completely avoid the other Guard members , and the  worried yet hopeful look that  Thire was subjecting him too made it neigh impossible for him to turn him down.  “Sure,  vod , just let me finish getting my  armour on.” As uncomfortable as it made him to even touch the foreign  armour , he had to  try and seem natural. 

Luckily for Fives, the commander’s  armour had most of the same components as his ARC  armour , and if he tried hard enough he could almost pretend that he was  wearing his familiar blue  plastoid . He left his helmet off for the time being, tucking it under his arm, before moving to join  Thire who was stood just outside the doorway in the hall.  The Commander gave him a nod and a soft smile, reaching out and gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“How are you feeling,  vod ?”  Thire’s eyebrows had furrowed in concern, his face looking almost painfully piteous  as he looked at Fives. They had slowly started walking, and Fives was careful to pay attention to where they were going so that he could hopefully find his way back to his quarters later. 

Fives gave the Commander a smile, though it felt awkwardly forced , “I’m fine, just a little tired is all. ” He was nervous, and praying that the other clone didn’t pick up on it,  growing more anxious by the second as  Thire’s eyes continued to heavily scrutinize his face for any signs of  a lie .  He heard the Commander make a soft noise,  looking away from him but looking no more convinced than he had been before Fives’ attempt at reassurance. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to be busy all day, but  we can chat tonight when we’ve both clocked off, alright?”  The Commander gave his shoulder a firm squeeze just as the reached the entrance to the mess,  dropping his hand from Fives’ shoulder just before they stepped into the room, ensuring that no one had seen their brief moment of brotherly  support.  Fives had heard stories of Commander Fox, the brave, confident  leader, and so he figured that being seen  receiving reassurance for any sort of worry could potentially damage such a reputation. 

It was strange really, because Fives was so used to the openness that Captain Rex usually showed him – sure he wouldn’t completely break down in front of his men, but he was quite happy to  both give and receive affection from his men – he personally thought that it made him stronger for being able to do so. He was forced to remind himself that this was the  Coruscant Guard, not his buddies from Torrent,  and they likely had their own ways of supporting one another, even if it wasn’t quite as open as he was used to. 

Thire led them to a bench off to the side, already half full by the time they reached it. On one side sat sergeant Hound, who was grinning at Commander Stone sat beside him, apparently winning some sort of argument if Stone’s expression was anything to go by. Commander Thorn sat across from them, snickering slightly at the other two as they quietly bickered. 

They all glanced up the moment they caught sight of Fox and  Thire , and Thorn quickly scooted down the other end of the table to make room for the two approaching commanders. Hound and Stone had taken a pause in their argument, watching as the other two clones sat down, and Thorn slid two trays and two  cups of  caff in their  direction. “Managed to  grab you guys some of the fresh  caff b efore everyone else started fighting over it,” Thorn explained,  taking a sip from his own mug.

Thire made a pleased sound as he took a gulp of his own drink, “ I don’t think I’ d be able to make it through the day  if I’d been stuck with th at dodgy stuff they keep reheating throughout the day, tastes like  gutter water.” 

“Do I want to know how you know what gutter water tastes like?”  Stone smirked at  Thire , chuckling when the other Commander simply rolled his eyes. 

Fives was happy to listen to the officers ribbing one another, enjoying the moment of familiar, harmless mocking between brothers, as he eagerly tucked into his breakfast, feeling as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or not that even in a world where everything seemed to be turning on its head, ration squares still tasted just as bland as always. 


End file.
